Three Fingers
by A Vampires Butterfly
Summary: Alfred is forced to share some details and confesses to his lovers. (PWP. Established foursome between Alfred/Ivan/Francis/Arthur)


"Have you ever touched yourself, Amerika?"

Alfred knew it was a trap the minute he heard it and almost refused to answer, simply grunting as he thrust his hips back, demanding that Ivan stop thinking of weird questions he already knew the answer to and get to work on getting him off instead. Francis chuckled in front of him, making him look up at him and his struggle to look nonchalant as Arthur bobbed his head up and down in his lap. Francis always tried to look like he wasn't getting the best blow job in the world.

Alfred thought that it turned both him and Arthur on to pretend that they couldn't pleasure each other. It didn't make any damn sense to him, but watching it was really hot and right now, he had a front row seat to action, on his hands and knees on the bed with Arthur bent over Francis' lap, the Frenchman perched on the pillows, back against the headboard. Often, Alfred found himself watching Francis but Francis kept making eye contact with someone else. The jerk currently groping his ass like it was a pillow that needed to be tested for softness.

"Not touching your cock, like the naughty little boy you are…Nyet. I am meaning here. Touching here." A cold finger pressed against his winking hole and Alfred felt himself flush in embarrassment at how Ivan was talking to him. They all knew he liked dirty talk –it was a hard fact to hide- but that didn't mean he wanted the commie jerk just talking to him like that in front of everyone all of the sudden!

"You know I have." He mumbled, pressing back again, wanting it and wanting the commie to just hurry the fuck up.

"Do I?" The innocence in Ivan's tone was so wrong that Alfred wanted to punch him for it. But he couldn't when the bastard finally pushed a finger inside of him. He gave a low moan, the burn of it making him break out into goosebumps, his body trembling for just a moment before steadying. Ivan's fingers were so big…God. When he could open his eyes again, he watched Arthur's head bob steadily, hypnotizing him until he noticed that Francis was actually looking at _him_, half lidded eyes bright and curious in a way that made his stomach twist.

"Russie may know, but I fear the rest of us are…how do you say…out of the loop, mon cher…" How could that jerk sound so composed as Arthur licked his cock like a lollipop? The self-control it showed made him whimper quietly, licking his lips and wishing that he could be sucking Francis too. He loved sharing with Arthur. He would follow the older nation's lead, tongue licking the trails Arthur left, sucking only when he was allowed, meeting emerald eyes as they met at the tip and went all the way to the bottom. He just loved sucking and got quick and greedy if left to his own devices. That's why he needed someone to share with, to show him what he should do. His mouth was so dry and empty. It wasn't fair! Ivan thrust his finger in sharply and Alfred keened, arching and remembering that he had been asked something. Damn it.

"I…I've fingered myself." He admitted quickly, fisting the sheets beneath him and bowing his head as Ivan crooked his finger inside of him. Damn that was good…

"I have a feeling that those fingers…When they were being in you. That they were not being you. Am I being right, Amerika?" Alfred swore when it was his turn, he was going to fuck Ivan so hard that the bastard lost his voice screaming. What the hell was he getting at, huh? But he knew the answer and it made him go very quiet, only panting as Ivan continued to stretch and finger fuck him. The realization that he had fucked himself and masturbated to each of the nations currently in his bed made him feel so embarrassed that he just wanted to die. Instead, he buried his flushed face in the sheets, pushing his ass higher in the air, begging Ivan to just drop it.

But after a moment, he heard a loud sucking noise and then felt the bed shift. "Is he not answering?" That was Arthur's voice and Alfred whimpered, feeling everyone staring at him now. A firm hand went to his hair and gently pulled his head away from the sheets. Arthur was now on his own hands and knees, head level with his, ass facing a very pleased Francis. One look into his eyes and Arthur seemed to know what he needed. Their mouths met in a kiss that made him see stars, whole body melting with just the touch. Everything faded as Arthur kissed him, tongue scrapping against his teeth, as though his mouth needed an investigation so that Arthur could be sure it was exactly as he had left it. He kissed back with a grateful eager moan and pressed forward, shaking arms the only thing keeping him from clinging to the older nation. Ivan pushed another finger inside of him and he was in total bliss, alternating between pressing forward into the kiss and pressing backwards into the thrusts, from pain to pleasure until he was drowning and moaning, slipping away to that place that made everything good.

He was tugged out of it gently, though, when Arthur's expert kissing became sloppy, tongue slipping from his lips to meet his chin instead, lips mashing instead of meshing, teeth nipping at tongue and lips instead of caressing and teasing. Alfred opened his eyes to see that Francis' head had disappeared between Arthur's spread cheeks and there were slurping noises coming from the area. A glance at Arthur's face showed that he was delirious with pleasure and not afraid to show it as long as Francis wasn't watching. "Answer…Ahhh. Damn it, frog. Answer the question, lad." Arthur commanded him when he realized he was watching and Alfred had to pause for a long moment to even remember the question. When he did, he couldn't stop and be embarrassed because Arthur had told him to answer, in that tone, after kissing him like that. It was impossible to refuse him.

"Tell us, Amerika. Who was the first finger, hm?" Ivan's tone spoke of amusement but the way his fingers cruelly curled and thrust and shoved made it obvious that he had not been pleased with Arthur's interruption. Alfred whimpered and began to lick at Arthur's neck, nibbling at his pale skin to appease him as he was fucked harshly, body jerking forward, cock twitching and bobbing beneath him.

"Francis!" he finally gasped out, flushing hot around the ears, sweat beginning to drip from his hair line. The man in question paused in his pleasuring of Arthur, gaining a growl from the former empire in question, and looked over at him. Alfred trembled and bit his lip before continuing with a moan. "I…I imagined Francis when I first touched myself…It felt so good when he touched me…When he left, I w-wanted more and…and I just tried…to…mmm…Tried to do it to myself!"

He moaned as he remembered fumbling in wet sheets, finger poking at himself, slick with spit and sweat, pushing it in and finding out how much he liked how it would burn and how it felt to be stretched, moaning Francis' name and remembering how the older nation had consumed his young, virgin body. He didn't regret the memories of giving himself to Francis. He couldn't. It had been so good, especially when it could have been so bad, and he felt so grateful towards the Frenchman for making him feel so much pleasure…

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his cheek and looked up with glowing adoration as Francis seemed to just…magically appear, caressing him and looking at him as though he were a jewel, just as he had that first time.

"What a sweet boy…"

He made a low pleased noise at the praised and leaned into the touch, trying to kiss at his wrist, trying to please him, thank him. Francis smiled at the display and the look made him feel warm from head to toe. But then, suddenly he was flipped onto his back, staring up at Francis as his legs were spread wide, on full display for all watching eyes, a third large finger thrust into him hard enough to make him cry out.

"Second finger, Amerika." No longer bothering to even pretend to be sweet, Ivan's voice was gravel and ice and it scrapped against Alfred's nerves, body squirming on his brutal fingers, hands clawing at the sheets that had already been sewn over and over again because of his strength and lack of control. His moaning, whining mouth was wide open and was filled by a gentle and hard cock. He looked up to find Francis straddling him, feeding him his dripping cock. Alfred felt like a kid getting candy on his birthday, eagerly sucking and feeling like he could cry out of gratefulness. Francis' cock tasted so good. It always tasted the best and it was the perfect size for sucking. Just big enough to fill his mouth without causing him choking or trouble. He could literally suck on it all day and had begged to on more than one occasion. But he had always been denied, because the other half of their foursome didn't think it was fair for him to get all of Francis' cum for a day.

Still, just getting it right now made him so happy that he had to force himself to slow down and not just suckle the cum out all at once. Instead, he swallowed and savored the moan that he got for it, feeling it pulse against his cheeks and tongue, that large vein throbbing and giving away just how much it enjoyed his eagerness.

It was gently pulled past his lips again, resting there as he panted, eyes hazy, drool dripping from his lips as he gave a low moan. "Second finger, mon cher." Francis reminded, long fingers breezing through his sweat damp hair. The reminder was needed and he licked his lips, wondering if he could lie, wondering if he could refuse. But Ivan decided to pull all three fingers out and then pushed them into him again at once, each one hitting that little bundle of nerves over and over again and Alfred couldn't find the brain cells to lie.

"It was Ivan. Oh god. Yes. I would fuck myself and think about the commie…Fuck yes. Fuck yes. It felt so good. I would go rough. I wanted it so badly. I'd cum all over myself and feel so damn dirty. Oh _god_. Ivan don't fucking stop!" The rushed confession came out in a blur, memories of hotel rooms and locked doors invading his mind. He didn't know when his crush on Ivan had started or when they had developed into something stronger, but he remembered that he had only started fucking himself to the image of Ivan when the Cold War had started. It had been so wrong that for a while that had been the only way he could cum, making him tense and on edge until he could escape to his own private, dirty fantasies. Ivan and he had only had sex once or twice before the Cold War and after that, they had fucked each other so often that when they were apart and Alfred used his fingers he would often find his hole already stretched and already plenty sore. It never stopped him.

Ivan gave a pleased giggle and Francis replaced his cock as a reward, silencing Alfred's desperate noises as Ivan finally devoted himself to just pleasing him. Those fingers fucked him, but the other hand began to caress his thighs and squeeze his ass. His hand was so big and cold and strong. He could pick him up and just carry him away if he wanted. He could smother him. He could choke him until he was blue. He could force his cock into him. He never had needed his permission and even though he was so cold, he burned Alfred so badly.

Even if he couldn't be understood, he began to beg around Francis' cock, swallowing and sucking as muffled slutty pleads left him, whining and needy. "What a dirty dorogoy…" Alfred moaned Ivan's name as he was called "darling" in such a darkly fond tone. "Imagining me fucking you. You needed it so badly, da? Such a greedy little pig." They shared a memory between them with just a dark glance, one of guns and bondage and blood, and Alfred spread his legs so wide it hurt, demanding Ivan get between them, demanding that cock fuck him into the mattress.

He didn't need to ask twice. With a lewd popping noise, those fingers freed themselves from his stretched hole and he felt a big cock line up against him. It was so much bigger than his fingers. God and he wanted it _all_.

"Not yet."

A sharp tone snapped them all to attention and Alfred whined loudly, arching and begging, thrashing on the bed as he was denied what he needed most. A lithe body easily climbed on top of him and bony fingers went to his nipples giving them a harsh pinch that made tears come to his eyes.

"Pull your damn cock from the boy's mouth, frog." Arthur's eyes were ablaze as they stared down at Alfred. He was so small, perched over Alfred's bouncing hips, but it was clear who was in command as Francis freed his cock from Alfred's mouth, even Ivan not daring to move forward, though Alfred could feel him twitching against his hole, his own cock echoing the begging.

"And don't you dare thrust into this boy. Do you understand?" His head twisted to glare at Ivan who merely stared, smiling as though he might defy him, fingers tightening to form bruises on Alfred's hips, punishing him for the dominating British man. Alfred mewled pitifully, looking up at Arthur with wide, wet eyes. "Oh belt up, prat. You know you aren't done." He twisted his nipples ruthlessly, turning him red and sore and Alfred whimpered even as his hips snapped up on instinct, bumping against Arthur's soft cheeks, smearing precum against them.

"The third finger, boy. Who does that third finger belong to? Tell me, boy or you won't be getting anything." Alfred heard the iron in that tone; saw the lion roaring behind those emerald eyes. Flushed and disheveled, Arthur still looked like a man who got exactly what he demanded. Even Francis didn't make a noise to undermine him and Alfred could hear him panting above him, felt a drop of cum land on his forehead from the dripping cock he had just been sucking on. He knew he wasn't the only one that got off when Arthur got bossy like this. It had always been like that. That was why…

"You. Oh god. Iggy. Arthur. England. _Daddy_." That last one sent a whoosh of air out of all them, a collective lustful sigh leaving each body that surrounded him. Francis' hand tightened in his hair and Ivan pushed forward a bit, not quite piercing him but obviously wanting to. Arthur just stared down at him, but he could see the edge of his mouth curl into a pleased smirk, just barely suppressed.

"Me, lad? You imagined me turning you over my lap and fingering that slutty little hole of yours?" Arthur asked even as his hands left Alfred's nipples, reaching back to spread his own cheeks.

"Yes. Oh god. Yes. Oh daddy…You would yell at me during meetings and when you started treating me like a big boy, all I wanted was to be your bad boy…"

Right after World War II, when he had showed the world that he wasn't just Arthur's ex-colony, Arthur had finally given him a bit of respect. This had turned him on so badly, he had somehow reverted to weird fantasies of degradation and punishment, spankings and belts and dirty words and shouts. He couldn't count how many times he had run to the bathroom during world meetings to rub out a quick one just so he could make it through Arthur telling him how much of an idiot he was.

"Oh no, lad. You're my good boy…Such a good, good lad. Such a big boy now, hm?" Arthur continued to talk even as he began to slide down Alfred's aching cock. This was some kind of cue as Ivan started to push forward at the same time. Alfred got out a scream of complete and utter pleasure before Francis plugged his mouth with his cock and they were all moving at the same time, Arthur leading them with his quick, bouncing body.

"Yes! Good boy! Always my boy! No matter what. Oh yes. You belong to _me_." Arthur began to curse as he fucked himself up and down Alfred's cock.

Alfred stopped listening as a flurry of moans and praise swarmed over him, in three different languages. Francis gently mocked Arthur between gasps and wet thrusts. Ivan begged Francis to speak in French and then told Alfred exactly how much of a slutty fucktoy he was. Arthur grabbed Francis' hair and shouted at him that when this was done, he was going to destroy him for taking Alfred's virginity. Francis only moaned and begged for it to be done.

Alfred just listened to them all and smiled as they fucked him to the edge and then over, all coming with each other, in him, on him, surrounding him in their love and praise and filth and he loved every minute of it as he loved every one of them.

They would always, always, _always_ be better than his fingers could ever be.


End file.
